Memorial Memories

Memorial weekend is in the rearview mirror, and hopefully there were memories recalled and memories made. I spent the weekend in Branson with the much-older-sister, and we gifted ourselves with a slower pace and no pressing plans. 
 

Our first stop was a visit to Cayuga Cemetery  to decorate our parents and grandparents graves. We retold stories of how “that was what Memorial weekend was all about” when we were growing up.

Back then we loaded the family car and made the cemetery circuit. We had a few flowers mother had cut from her peony and rose bushes to place in remembrance of lost loved ones. We would walk among the dead, listening to the living tell “who they were” and “what our connection was” to those grey headstones. Sister and I don’t remember really liking the holiday tradition, but it was something we did annually to show respect for those that had passed away. As she and I drove and discussed, we honestly remembered more about the day spent with family, than the stories about the dead. For us it was more about meeting up with other family and sharing a picnic lunch. Fried chicken and limp paper plates; and there might be a trip to the creek in there now and again, but Memorial Day was for remembering.

Julia and I drove  Highway 76 in Branson and commented on all the changes since the last time we were in town. Buildings going up and coming down, businesses going in and going out. We always have to recall our family vacation to Branson, one of the very few we took as a farming family. Julia and I set up a howl to stay in a motel with a swimming pool. We can’t remember if we even swam, but we remember Daddy drove 76 until he found one for us. We observed other families there that, maybe like us, didn’t have huge vacation budgets. But, just like ours, their daddy allowed those kids to make some choices, too. That’s why they were playing mini-golf in the heat of the day and eating ice cream before lunchtime. They were making memories. 

Being back at Silver Dollar City as Willamae for a couple of days was so much fun. One reason I love it there is all the good, clean, wholesome fun that theme park stands for, and another reason is because of the wonderful memories that came flooding back. The smell of creosote and evergreen trees mingled with baking breads and scented candles, thrown in with wood chips and funnel cakes, yep, that’s Silver Dollar City. Willamae hung out on Main Street and greeted the folks coming into the park with “Welcome to Siiiiiilver Dollar City!” just the way I  remembered it. I loved watching all the families come in, little guys so excited they were about to come out of their skin just to be there with mom and dad, to have fun!  I asked what they were going to do, and the plans just fell out of their mouths with anticipation. I loved it. Of course, there were those teenagers whose body language told me that they weren’t nearly as excited to be there on a family vacation. Willamae would try to get a little tease in about putting their iPhones away, but I can say I saw just as many senior adults with their head in their phones as teenagers. 

Every show Willamae and Borderline Bluegrass performed, we had a patriotic number. JonBoy, our emcee, reminded our crowds that Memorial Day was about remembering those that didn’t make it back from wars, and there were some teary eyes as we united to remember. Folks thanked us. We felt blessed to be there, and memories were made. What did you remember this Memorial Day?

Who Says You Can’t Go Home Again?

Think about a summer job you had when you were in college. Would you want to do this job again, if you had the chance? This job might have been something like 35 years ago, but wouldn’t it be fun to go do it again? I’m going to get that chance. Well, my  alter-ego, Willamae, is getting that chance.

My character of Willamae was created one summer that I worked at Silver Dollar City in Branson, Missouri. I was hired to perform in the saloon show and I loved every minute of that job. As a saloon girl, I sang, I danced, I served cokes and peanuts, I sold garters off my leg, and made memories with folks from everywhere that came to Branson to enjoy a vacation. I was employed by a wonderful family  owned theme park that specialized in good clean fun. It was a dream come true. I had visited SDC as a nine-year-old girl and said “Someday, I’m going to work here.” And I did. 

There were days when the “saloonies” as we were called, had to work crowd control, being outside to entertain the crowd that waited to get into the air-conditioned theater. Honestly, it wasn’t as much fun because it seemed to the crowds that we were the B-String Saloon Girls. So with the blessings of my team leader, Jim Moskau,  (who is still a SDC employee) I created my country girl character of Willamae to interact and tell tall tales on the porch of the saloon. I was  sort of an opening act for the show inside. A few girls even borrowed my costume and did their version of Willamae in years that followed. 

Willamae still has a heart for the Ozarks as she has escorted a motorcoach of fun loving folks to Branson for Christmas for the last 20 years. In fact, that was the first group tour I ever did, Willamae’s Branson Christmas trip and it’s something that has become a sold-out trip with Good to Go With Patti Beth ever since. As some will remember, Willamae was a regular of the Kountry Kuzins Jamboree Show here on Grand Lake for over 20 years. She has been all over the midwest, and this weekend, Willamae is getting the chance to go home.

It’s Silver Dollar City’s BBQ and Bluegrass festival, with Willamae and Borderline Bluegrass Band taking the stage on Sunday and Monday, this weekend. The theme park will have live bluegrass bands all over the park (including the venerable Ricky Skaggs), and I am honored to perform on the gazebo stage on Main Street for two days. I’m looking forward to making more memories for visitors, and reliving some of my own. Willamae has her washboard tuned up, and JonBoy Harden has his fiddle bow rosined. We’d love to see you, since Willamae is going “home.” Stop by for a listen and say howdy!

Tales from the Trail

I was a college teacher before I was a group travel leader. I was a teacher, which meant books, syllabuses, evaluations, teacher’s guides, you know… all that academic stuff. Suddenly I found myself in a very niche travel market, and honestly, I didn’t have a clue where to start. I scoured the library for text books. I looked for a course at the Vo-Tech, you know, Group Travel 101. I gleaned brochures for a short course. I asked people in the business for advice. I just knew there had to be something out there. Of course, all the time I’m hunting, I’m doing. After a period of time passed, I got a call from a girl who had found herself in a group travel position and didn’t know where to start. Someone told her to call Patti Beth. I had to just grin, I guess I had passed my crash course without the book and it was time to teach others. 
 

This week I presented a workshop at the Oklahoma Conference on Tourism in Oklahoma City. I had the opportunity to stand in a lecture hall in front of full of people that wanted to learn about how I am successful with my Good to Go With Patti Beth group travel company. There was discussion among the travel professionals about Oklahoma’s budget and how it was going to affect tourism. I was impressed by one of the speakers that addressed the value of the tourist dollar in our state. Their research had shown that if every taxpayer in Oklahoma had to cover what tourism brings in, we all would have to ante up about $1250 dollars! Staying in the mind of potential visitors was a reoccurring theme. The comparison to big companies like Coca-Cola and McDonalds was used to illustrate that you need to continue to advertise to remind customers. Big companies don’t take a year off from advertising, even when budgets have been cut.

I was among some “names” in the industry and enjoyed talking about one of my favorite subjects: travel.  As a professional group travel planner, I have been a guest speaker at Travel South, (a southern states travel conference). I have been hired as a travel consultant by various cities to come and share with their Chamber of Commerce and Tourism programs on what they could do to make their communities more appealing to motorcoach groups. After almost 25 years on the trail, I certainly have some tales of what works and what buses would find appealing. Since many places wonder why buses don’t frequent or even stop in their areas, I told “Tales from the Trail” of my experiences in working with destinations and what makes for a “group friendly” visit. I offered ideas on how to become more of desirable place for buses to visit.

Almost every speaker addressed the fact that tourism doesn’t know city limits, county lines or even state lines for that matter. Tourists visit an area. They don’t know who gives taxes to where or what budget paid for the ad.  The speakers encouraged all the delegates to work with their neighbors, a group effort would certainly be more attractive to a group! This idea starts at the city level first. As the old saying goes, “Many hands make light work.” That goes for promotions. If everyone worked together, it seems like that would make the budgets stretch a bit further and ease the burden for all.

At least, that one thing I’ve learned out on the trail.

Passport Before PJ’s

If confession is good for the soul, I need to confess. I claim to be Good to Go, but alas, before our tour to Tuscany, I almost wasn’t.  But God looks after dumb dumbs, and he assigned extra saints and angels to keep me going. Please allow me to explain.
 

I lost my passport. That’s right. I. Lost. My. Passport… One of my most prized possessions, the thing my family knows to grab for me in case of an exodus, the thing this Fearless Leader preaches that should be protected even more than money, well, I kinda lost mine. A weak excuse is that I have moved and my “packing routine” has been messed up. You might remind me that I did travel to Asia for three weeks, wasn’t that a passport trip? And you would be correct.

Here’s the truth. I always pack my passport safely away in my neck wallet/name badge and tuck it in my travel purse to be Good to Go. As a last minute packer, I figure if I forget something or oversleep, I can buy everything except a passport. But this time, I did my preparation out of sequence; I packed earlier than usual, putting my pjs and walking shoes all in “Big Red,” the suitcase. 

The morning we were to leave, I zipped my luggage, and about an hour before time to meet the group, I pulled out my passport holder, only to discover - no passport! Oh… no…

I take a deep breath and try to think “when was the last time I saw it?” I begin to search drawers and my desk and spots that little blue book might be hiding. By now, I’ve confessed to husband Doug that I can’t find my passport because this is pretty important to find. He quizzes me on where it might be, I go through the purse from Asia, I dig through pockets of clothing in the closet. I even search the sofa cushions. Oh, oh… it’s time to meet the travelers, Doug agrees to go and says he won’t tell them what a dumb dumb I am. By now, I’m sweating like crazy. My prayers are getting louder and more desperate. I give my “much older” sister a 911 call; she’s there in 9 minutes and starts tossing my house.

I’m wondering if I could have had it in my hand and gotten distracted and laid it down? So we search bookshelves and the kitchen cabinets and the bathroom drawers. Julia asks what my “plan B” is and I whine “ I don’t have one!” and we dump out garbage cans and root through trash. Me, the one who has plan B, C, & D for our travelers… don’t have one for me! I’m a wreck now, thinking about how to resolve this catastrophe. I pick up my purse to shove the contents back in from where I’ve searched them 17 times and I grab my wallet and open it. Hallelujah! There’s my passport in my money wallet where I had tucked in some Euros a few days earlier! (I never do that!) I flew out of the house like a streak, caught up with the gang on the way to the airport. Oh my. I was embarrassed yet relieved. My angel was looking after me. 

In Italy, we passed a cathedral dedicated to St. Anthony, the patron saint of lost items. I whispered a little “thank you” to any and all saints that might have had anything to do with my morning of insanity ending with a find. Later that day we visited a small village where sat on the church steps and snapped a few photos as an Improv group performed. Our group walked down a few narrow streets towards the bus parking. As we were waiting on the coach, a man on a bicycle pedaled quickly up to me. He spoke English and asked me if I had lost anything. A bit puzzled but remembering, I blurted out, “My camera!” He had seen me taking pictures and saw I had forgotten the camera on the steps. He jumped on his bike and took a chance finding me to return it. How about that?! A stranger, in another country, going to extra lengths to help this dumb dumb visitor. I thanked my saints and angels again. And again.

The end of our tour found us in Switzerland. Our adventure to go up Mt. Titlis was even more exciting because of the surprise snowfall. We weren’t prepared for this weather, but we bundled up in our jackets and some wore socks for gloves. Connie showed us the socks-now-mittens she borrowed from Betty. Hey, it worked!

 Hours later on the trip down the mountain, roommate Mindy and I rounded a corner, and there was a stray sock. “Isn’t that Connie’s glove, Betty’s sock?” We picked it up.

At dinner that evening, it didn’t take long to hear that Connie was feeling sad about losing Betty’s borrowed sock. Mindy and I let her go on a bit before we produced the missing mate. It was so fun, to think of the slim chances that we would have seen the silly thing going up in order to be able to rescue it coming down.

Three stories of the lost being found. Three happy endings. My lessons learned? 

• always pack your passport before your pjs
• There are still good people in the world
• It feels nice to be a good person in the world. 

I appreciate all the heavenly help I can get.

From Gondolas to Gondolas

We were “Under the Tuscan Sun” when NE Oklahoma started to go under water. Our Good to Go travelers took in the sights on our recent visit to Italy. We mingled with the locals as we traveled streets that have been in place since Roman times. Montecatini bubbled with fountains and Italian beauty as we jumped out of jet lag mode and began explore. We took a day trip to Florence. In the book 1000 Places to See Before You Die,  this Renaissance city is captioned with this quote:
 

“The god who created the hills around Florence
was an artist. No! He was a jeweler, engraver,
sculptor, bronze founder and painter:
He was a Florentine.” ~ Anatole France

And Florence has attracted people with the same gifts. It’s a bit of time travel, as we made our way down cobbled streets and lingered in piazzas. The aroma of strong coffees served in tiny little cups waft through the sidewalk cafes. Churches and cathedrals beckon visitors with the chiming of bells. Our guides wave their hands to gesture each word that swiftly leaves their tongue. The Italian language is a beautiful thing to hear… and watch.

But a hush falls over the crowd when standing in the presence of David. The fifteen-foot tall marble beauty sculpted by 29-year-old Michangelo in 1501, has been leaving viewers in awe for centuries. The piece was controversial at the time because, Michangelo’s David was a thoughtful looking man, not the rock-slinging-shepherd boy that had been depicted over and over from the Biblical story.   The Galleria dell’Accademia, is filled with paintings and pieces by names I think I was suppose to remember from Art History Class. 

We spend two nights on Venice. Venice… the backdrop for many romantic movies and greeting cards. We arrive by boat taxi, and kinda want to pinch ourselves that we are here. We open our hotel windows and look over the waterways bustling with tourist boats, personal transportation and boats that handle the work of the city. The garbage boats make early morning runs and have a neat system of picking up bundles of trash and compacting it within their hulls. But it’s the gondolas that everyone uses to identify Venice.

Yes, it’s touristy. Yes, it’s overpriced. Yes, it’s kinda cheesy, but… it’s Venice! The gondoliers wear the blue and white striped sweaters, and a few don the straw boater’s hat with the ribbon but… they don’t sing. That’s just Hollywood. But hanging out our hotel window, we enjoyed a few cruisers who paid extra to have an accordion player onboard to complete the scene. Night time fell over the maze of tiny streets and passageways, and the last of the boaters plied their way into visitors’ memories. 

Leaving Italy, we traveled north through more tunnels than we could count, to Engelberg, Switzerland. Another postcard experience, this Swiss villa is nestled in the valley at the foot of Mount Titlis. The newest attraction here is the revolving gondola that takes us to the 10,627 foot peak of the snow covered mountain.  We hear the views are amazing, but sadly we had a foggy, snowy, cloudy day.

But, we still had fun (and I’ve got the video to prove it!)

The forecast surprised us and called for more snow, and we woke up to a scene from a Christmas card as 12 inches of white stuff fell overnight. We put on multiple layers of clothes, some wore socks for gloves and we mused over sunny Tuscany as we plowed through the snowy Swiss. Travel is an adventure!